


the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love

by starkmccall



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, Post-Season/Series 15, Spoilers, written in response to 15.20 but technically post 15.19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27642185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkmccall/pseuds/starkmccall
Summary: “In case you’ve forgotten, Naomi’s been through this before with me.” Cas offers, tilting his face to - whatever is upwards. “Unless you start forcing me to murder him, I doubt this will do much.”Dean blinks. “No, Cas - it’s me. Like, actually me, me.”Cas barely gives him an annoyed glance. “Convincing.”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 91





	the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love

**Author's Note:**

> in case u have really fucked up and not seen any spoilers i won't say shit here but. hm
> 
> title from talk by hozier

It’s pretty anticlimactic, if Dean says so himself. No colossal fight, no epic saga, just a sad little man in a blazer, weeping on the rocks as they drive away. Even seeing people brought back to life around him feels a little unimpressive, knowing what’s missing. 

“So what about Cas?” Dean asks, acting like it hasn’t been the only thing on his mind the second he saw Cas get absorbed by the Empty. “I mean, Lucifer said Chuck just yanked him out, right? And he didn’t even like him that much - you gotta be able to do the same.”

“No.” Jack says, placid in the way he always is, and Dean would be fighting back instantly at his calmness if he wasn’t Castiel’s kid. “But you can.”

Dean can sense Sam’s eyes on him without even looking, and maybe in another time he would have acted surprised, but he’s so fucking tired. “So what do I have to do?”

Jack clicks a finger, careless, and a hole opens up on the road beside him, the concrete collapsing into uneven steps all the way down, further than Dean can see and further than he can probably comprehend. “I would like to go down there on my own, but - you’re the one he sacrificed himself for. You’re the only one who can bring him back.”

“Talk about parallels.” Dean quips, and he would bring up Chuck, but - Cas is the only thing he knows for sure Chuck could never control. He won’t do that to him now, taint his name like that, even for a quick joke. He turns to Sam, and he has this look on his face like he knows. He couldn’t - not really. There is nobody alive, not even Dean himself, who could comprehend the depth of feeling he feels at the mention of Cas’ name alone. But he knows enough, knows enough to bring Dean in for a tight and brief hug.

“Bring him home.” Sam says, hand a vice on Dean’s shoulder. “And don’t look back.”

“I never do.” Dean replies, stepping back. “You better have found Eileen by the time I get back, bitch.”

Sam smiles at him - a real Sam Winchester Special, not the tight-cornered half smiles he’s been favouring for the past few years. “You know I will, jerk.”

With that, Dean turns to Jack, whose head is tilted in such a familiar way it feels like a punch to the gut. “So I just step down there, huh?”

“Yes.” Jack replies simply. “He’ll be waiting for you, I think - though he may not believe it’s you, at first. I don’t know much about the Empty, but-”

“It’s not exactly a friend.” Dean finishes - he knows that much. “I’ll - he’ll know it’s me.” 

He hopes. 

He hugs Jack too, for good measure, and because - that’s his kid. He’s tired of acting otherwise. And then, before he can really comprehend it, he’s down the steps, and all he can see is dark. He feels a bit stupid, really - it’s literally called the Empty, why he was expecting something else is beyond him, but it’s like nothing he’s ever experienced. He’s been to Heaven and Hell and Purgatory, and yet nothing has struck him like this so quickly - the darkness sinking into his skin, the loneliness making a home in his bones. 

He walks for what feels like forever and yet no time at all - time seems to lose all meaning in this place. He can’t understand how Cas lasted so long here. And finally, the angel himself is before him, legs crossed under him, hands resting on his knees. It may not be the traditional position, but it looks as if he’s praying - to what, Dean doesn’t know. He certainly doesn’t look as excited to see Dean as he was expecting, which may be a little self-centred, but - guy professed his apparent love for him before sacrificing his life for him. Dean figures that at least warrants a smile. 

“In case you’ve forgotten, Naomi’s been through this before with me.” Cas offers, tilting his face to - whatever is upwards. “Unless you start forcing me to murder him, I doubt this will do much.”

Dean blinks. “No, Cas - it’s me. Like, actually me, me.”

Cas barely gives him an annoyed glance. “Convincing.”

“Cas.” Dean takes a step forward. “Please - I don’t know how to convince you. I just want you to come home - to come home with me.”

Cas’ face tilts to the side, its preferred position, but there’s none of the naivety there once was in his expression, only irritation and sadness. “Haven’t you done enough? I’m here - isn’t that what you want?”

“Cas.” Dean’s voice breaks, the way it did another time he would prefer not to think about, when there was a gaping wound in Cas’ chest and a rogue angel in Sam’s body. He kneels down, and in another time it may be an act of benediction, but now - he doesn’t know who he is anymore, what he wants, other than Cas on Earth with him, alive. “Do you know how long I stood outside that Gas ‘n Sip, just looking at you? I was so scared to go in - I didn’t know what I’d do if you said no. But you never did, even when you should have - you were too good to me, you were too good _for_ me.”

“Stop.” Cas replies, but he sounds slightly less certain, so Dean keeps going. 

“Do you wanna know when I realised-” He can’t say the word, not here. “When I realised how I felt about you? That night, when I tried to get you laid-”

“There have been too many examples of that.” Cas offers, but he’s closer to smiling than he was before, so Dean takes it as close to a win as he thinks he can get.

“Long ago.” Dean replies, giving a real smile back. “Long ago, before all this, before the Darkness, before the Leviathan, before everything. You tried to counsel a hooker on her daddy issues, and I thought - goddamn, that should be me.” He figures since Cas quite literally shaped his soul once he drew him out of Hell, he knows every aspect of what Dean’s had to do to survive on the road, even the bits he’ll refuse to ever talk about out loud. “And you made me laugh - you made me properly laugh, and I realised - shit. This isn't going away. This isn’t something I can just forget about. _You_ aren’t something I can just forget about. And the fact that you thought that I - that _this_ is something you could never have - that’s bullshit, man. I would - you’re it, for me. So come with me. Come home with me, please.”

He doesn’t know what does it, but something about what he said, or the way he said it, must convince Cas, because he leans forward suddenly, puts a hand to Dean’s face. “It’s you.”

“It’s me.” Dean confirms, tilting his head just far enough that his lips brush Cas’s palm. It’s enough to make his whole body feel as if it’s been set alight. “Come home with me.”

“Not that this isn’t touching.” A familiar voice drawls from behind them. “But as much as I love the silence, Castiel really has been my favourite plaything. It would be so sad to let him go.”

Dean refuses to turn around, to take his eyes from Cas for even a second. “Well, sorry about that, but Cas is nobody’s fucking plaything, especially not yours.”

The Empty cackles, the exact laugh he had heard from Meg so many times. “Don’t act like you didn’t treat him like a toy, Winchester. Fun for a while - until he got annoying or useless and you had to put him away again.”

“Shut up.” Dean says, putting a hand to Cas’ face, so they’re a mirror image. “Don’t - you were never useless, you were never - I never wanted you to go.”

“I never wanted to leave.” Cas replies, and Jesus, if he starts crying again Dean truly doesn’t know how he’ll cope. “I always wanted to stay.”

“So stay.” Dean smiles, nodding in a way that probably seems a little bit manic. “Stay. Come with me.”

“Again.” The Empty purrs from behind them. “Your belief that either of you is leaving here is sweet. Ill-informed, but sweet.”

“I said.” Dean puts his free hand over Castiel’s, holds it with all the force of his faith and love and every prayer he’s ever made, in the sheer hope Jack is listening. “Shut up.”

It’s a slight blur after that. He remembers the watery outline of a door, and Cas’ hand in his, and not daring to look behind him - an irrational fear based on a myth he’s all but forgotten. And suddenly, like they were never gone, they’re outside the bunker - the warding’s probably kept them from entering directly. Only once there’s the feel of dirt under his feet, the smell of fresh air in his nose does Dean dare to look at Cas, and there is no sight in the world that could compare to him. He’s tugged him into his arms before he can even think about it, pressing his mouth to the side of Cas’ jawline. He’d be embarrassed at this clear show of affection if Cas’ hands weren’t pulling tightly at the back of his jacket - and, more importantly, if Cas hadn’t sacrificed his life while declaring his love for him only a few days before. 

“I-” He starts, but Cas tries to stop him.

“Dean, it’s okay. I’ve never - I meant when I said that my happiness was not borne out of the expectation that you reciprocated. I’m just grateful that I’m here, and that-”

“Could you let me speak?” Dean interrupts, and it may be a bit rude, but Jesus Christ, this has been ten years in the making, and Dean’s tired of giving himself excuses to pull away. “I didn’t just - say what I said back there for the sake of saying it, Cas. You’re _it_ for me. Every time I’ve - every happy ending I’ve pictured, every ideal life - none of them are possible without you. I wanna live my life with you, Cas, and not - I love you.”

Cas smiles at him - it's not the biggest smile in the world, but it's so bright it damn near knocks Dean off of his feet. “I know.”

Dean cannot fucking believe this, and he says “Did you just-” indignantly, but he isn’t mad, not really. “That isn’t even - you were just saying you didn’t think I felt the same.”

“I thought you would appreciate the reference.” Cas frowns, but Dean knows that frown, knows it the same way he knows every one of Cas’ expressions down to the smallest crease of a muscle. He’s taking the absolute piss out of Dean, and unfortunately, Dean couldn’t be more in love. He has to kiss him right now, or else he might die. 

It’s nothing and everything like Dean expected their first kiss to be. It’s messy, and a bit awkward, and he’s smiling a little too much to think about actually making it good. He’s got Cas’ face in his hands, and Cas has his hands on Dean’s wrists, and regardless of everything there’s still the little destructive part of Dean’s brain telling him this is too good of an ending, that he surely can’t actually get this. But then, Cas starts experimenting with running his tongue across Dean’s upper lip, and all thoughts leave his body, negative or otherwise. 

It takes a lot of effort, but at one point he does lean back to ask, “Hey, are you - are you still, you know - or are you human?”

“I’m dancer.” Cas replies with the barest trace of irony, and Dean knows that he’s responsible for a solid 95% of Cas’ pop culture education, not counting the information Metatron force-fed him, but Jesus Christ, that was truly painful. “But really - I’m human now. I’m assuming my grace was the exchange for the way out. The Empty wasn’t a fan of humans.”

“You’re telling me.” Dean scoffs, but the ever present worry is still there. “And you’re okay with that? Being human, I mean.”

“It’s all I’ve wanted, ever since I had the capacity _to_ want.” Cas replies, as casual as if he’s reading out the weather report. “Aside from you, of course.” Dean has never cared much for the law, but he thinks he’s legally required to kiss anyone who says something like that to him. 

When they finally make it inside the bunker - i.e. once Dean’s finally found the moral strength to be able to push out from where Cas has him pressed up against the door, despite every molecule in his body telling him to stay there - everyone’s there, crowded around the table in the war room or seated in the library chairs. Jody has an arm wrapped around Donna’s waist, and they’re both in deep conversation with Sam. Claire’s draped herself across the library table, head hanging off so she can look at Jack, hand intertwined with Kaia’s. Max is enthusiastically signing with Eileen, his eyes darting over at Sam every few seconds in a way that makes Dean feel simultaneously proud of his younger brother, and disgusted that any human being could show that much _interest_ in his younger brother, let alone multiple people. Alicia and Alex and Patience are clustered in a corner, doing who fucking knows what. They all look up at them, though, when they finally walk in - Dean knows he’s flushed, knows that the hand he’s got tightly interlocked with Cas’ is a dead giveaway to the recent developments in their relationship, but he can’t find it in himself to care. 

Jack and Claire are on them before Dean can blink, and the rest of them at least give them the chance to get down the stairs before smothering them in affection. Jody winks at him before tugging him into her arms, and Eileen kisses his cheek, and Patience hits him over the back of the head gently, and Dean realises that this is what it’s about, really. It’s not the place that matters, it’s the people.

They do move out of the bunker, eventually. It takes a little bit of forgery, and a _lot_ of bank account fraud, but Dean and Cas become the proud owners of both a bar and a refurbished barn a few hours out of Lebanon. They’re still in the middle of the US, a helpful pitstop for hunters, but they aren’t on the front lines anymore. They can offer a place to stay for whoever needs it, a helping hand in case of an emergency, but the fate of the world is no longer their responsibility. Cas grows a garden. Dean experiments with cocktail recipes. Sam offers a helping hand, when he isn’t either tied down with his second attempt at college, and eventually, his and Eileen’s daughter. Claire comes to stay the night before her 21st birthday, and then demands Dean break out the Smirnoff and the shot glasses the second it hits 12:00am. Jack forces them to watch a lot of TV that Cas genuinely hates, and Dean pretends to hate for the sake of his reputation. Dean offers one of his old rings to Cas over dinner at their kitchen table one night - Cas has a smear of dirt on his nose, and Dean’s heart is about to beat out of his chest, and Cas doesn’t think twice about putting it on, kissing Dean deep and hard afterwards.

It’s hard-fought, and it’s not always easy, but it’s good. It’s better than Dean ever could have dreamed, ever _would_ have dreamed for himself. It’s good.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah anyway not to be an emotional piece of shit but seeing the most important character in the world to me who has dealt with consistent suicidal thoughts and tendencies and generally be a self-sacrificing idiot die in the. stupidest way imaginable for some shite shock value. really made me want to start punching holes in my walls like a 15 year old boy. esp in conjunction with how cas' story ended and more importantly how it was treated afterwards. so anyway this is my response so that i won't start committing federal crimes lol i love you all and even though this show has so brutally let us down i wouldn't trade this community for the world. anyway. goodnight i have had quite a lot to drink because of this finale and my head is now in a lot of pain so i think i get to beat up andrew dabb like legally


End file.
